By Definition
by littlegrouse
Summary: In the end, Ichigo and Rukia never care to define what is between them. It just is what it is.
1. His Circumstances

**By D****efinition**

It's not what you all think. Everything doesn't just "fall into place" when she's there. She's hitting him half the time and calling him names, mind you.

It's just that when she's not there, something is… off. That's not because he misses her – which he does, and he's not too scared to admit, he just doesn't bother to – it's because when Rukia's not with him, she's usually in trouble somewhere. He should know, he's always cleaning up behind her.

Somehow, he has yet to figure out the difference between her just leaving for Soul Society regularly and her leaving to do something immensely stupid. She seems to end up doing both all the time, which makes it really hard to tell. After all, it's not like he can smell her from afar.

Come to think of it, it makes him really uncomfortable that Orihime can do that. Sometimes he wonders if she can tell what he's doing just by testing the air. Does he work up a sweat in his spirit form? He's always running and fighting in it, and there's always the sickening, rusty smell of too much blood being shed. Not to mention he has a sneaking suspicion that his breath is not all roses either, he's fought enough Hollows to wonder.

He knows Orihime wouldn't mind. Might have something to do with that she loves him, but he absolutely doesn't want to go there. Talk about feeling uncomfortable.

You'd think he'd grown accustomed to the general idea of girls and boys (or maybe something else) – he's lost his mother, he's been through a war and he's seen things that other people… let's not talk about that now. Let's just say, if there's one thing, in this world or another, that he's one hundred percent sure of, it's that life can be short. But still, you're wrong: he's seventeen by now and the whole concept ist somehow foreign to him. To the point that he still stumbles over a word like "kiss".

He's not stupid, of course, he knows there's _something_ inside him. It tends to get to his head when he's near Rukia, which makes it all the more frightening. It makes him lend her his jacket when she's cold, or buy her things when she's curious, or cross the earth – and then some – when she's in danger due to all those stupid things she does that were mentioned aforehand. But he doesn't have a name for it, and stubbornly refuses to pick one. It's certainly not… _that_, you know, it just isn't. Why are people always asking him that?

And while you're at it, how about not cracking jokes about him and Rukia in bed? Because he doesn't think about that. Ever.

He's learned that his teenage urges can manage themselves. The morning after he never remembers what triggered it, he just discreetly disposes of any evidence and instantly forgets about it. _Instantly. Every time._

He hopes he can live through High School and College that way, because he thinks of those other things you can do as troublesome and rather gross.

For example, he's quite sure that Tatsuki would just gulp down a boy in the middle of kissing. He's seen a documentary about the praying mantis once, you know, those things that bite off their partner's head when they're… _at it_ or something. He's pretty much relieved that he won't have to look out for her that way, she'll be fine. But sometimes, he catches himself watching her mouth in horrid fascination, trying to detect signs of fangs or maybe some leftover school uniform between her front teeth. Never fails to make him shudder.

It's even worse with Orihime. He harbours a strong fear she'd trap him between her breasts if they ever kissed. He suspects that she'd marry him on the spot and cook all sorts of awful food for him until the day he dies. Which wouldn't take long, because there is an army of children in his horror vision of their future, pulling his hair, messing with his work, slobbering all over the place. Now _that_ is scary.

If you absolutely must know, he's tried kissing once with Rukia, and it wasn't half bad. He was on his way home from school that day, and it was freezing. It had been a tiresome day, he'd been completely unprepared for the biology test because _someone_ had really grated on his nerves with their _obstinate_ not being there the night before.

Rukia arrived exactly when it started to rain, and she seethed with anger. They stood completely soaked in a matter of minutes, and she ranted on and on about something they'd fought about the last time. Although he wasn't entirely sure of that, after all she was mostly calling him names and shoving diagrams and tables with completely obscure meaning in his face. Finally, she seemed to conclude from his display of complete confusion that he didn't know what she was talking about and therefore hadn't really meant any of the things he'd said. That made the whole speech kind of pointless and must have been why she settled on the next best thing to be angry about: How could he leave her just standing in the rain? Hadn't he noticed it was freezing and her clothes weren't really warm? If he wasn't listening to a word she said, couldn't he at least offer her his jacket or something? Why didn't he bring an extra one? After all, it wasn't really unusual that she came by all of a sudden! Didn't he at least care enough about her to do what was common courtesy?

What should he have done? It wasn't as if he could _tell _her. He'd never hear the end of "I thought you cared…". It would have been her favourite instrument to blackmail him into doing God only knows what. Yet, if he hadn't done anything, he'd probably be a dead man today.

So, at this point he'd ventured a desperate guess that this thing inside him might act like the Hollow. That it could make him stronger if he let it, up to a certain point yet to be explored, when it would have to be suppressed. As you might have thought, he knows better by now.

He kissed her then, quickly and probably without much grace, and his mind somehow short-circuited, face heating up beyond coherent thought, limbs moving without any semblance to coordination. It was a devastatingly helpless, wonderful feeling and he secretly wants to do it again. And soon. But he's found out that whatever this is, it's by far more powerful than the Hollow and if he doesn't want to hurt someone with it, he's better off not trying anything.

At least, Rukia had been quiet afterwards. She touched her lips in a wondrous way that made him feel even more funny, then proceeded to shove him with much less ardor than usual. At last, she smiled and he gave her his jacket.

They never talk about this, and he's glad. He really doesn't care to explain to her that, well, everything doesn't just "fall into place" when she's there. It's just that when she's not, something is off.


	2. And Hers

**B****y Definition**

She's over one hundred and fifty years old, _of course_ she's been in love. She's not blind, and contrary to popular belief she has indeed feelings. Rukia has seen it all, the joy, the heartbreak, the magic of the first kiss and the tragedy of the last.

So you can trust her to say it's not _that_ with Ichigo. It's something entirely different.

That's not saying they're not close. She's not dumb, she knows it's uncommon to just move into someone's closet, and that if it happens, it's probably bound to bring people together _really_ close. She's heard the guy talk in his sleep, and she's seen him cry (which by the way she's pretty sure he'd die before letting _anyone _see). While it's certainly not endearing, she finds it touching, somehow. It makes him human when there is so much about him that's not.

It's a valid argument that his appearance is not so bad. To be honest, she's actually intrigued by his hair, and it especially fascinates her that his eyebrows are of the same colour, whereas his eyelashes seem to be black. As seen from a distance, naturally, and during a fleeting moment, because it's definitely not like she's staring at him out of the blue.

Since you _insist_, there are in fact times when she feels the urge to touch his head, ruffle the whirl of hair at the back, but that's more like scientific curiosity as she's never seen another boy with that strange hair colour. It's soft, you know. From what she's gathered when she hit him. Repeatedly.

She's not exactly asked for it, but she knows that his lips are rather soft as well. It wasn't what you'd call a _proper_ kiss, seeing as it was freezing outside and she was cold and angry for some no doubt important reason, and if you give her some time, she'll remember it, too. The kiss itself had an Ichigo-like quality to it: He obviously hadn't thought about it, it was quick and rough and she's still a bit surprised at how she managed to feel any softness at all. Later on, his face matched his hair colour and he avoided her eyes at all costs and she knew beyond a doubt that this was the first time he'd ever kissed a girl. And that it scared the hell out of him.

Now even if Rukia is a bitch sometimes – and she likes it that way – you can't really accuse her of being cruel, because she's never ever called him up on it, and she's not planning to, either. Although sometimes, it is _really_ tempting, especially when he's lecturing her or announcing to the world just how incredibly full of himself he is.

It's not just to save his precious dignity that she doesn't talk about it. It's that it means something to her. Not in the way _you_ all think, though.

She's learned that there is something special about the two of them, aside from the life-saving thing that they've brought to perfection. It's like they really know each other: They know when one of them is worried, or in danger, they know when they should talk and, somehow, when they should listen as well (although _Ichigo_ can't keep his mouth shut through it). Mostly to their utter disappointment, they even know when it's for the best just to reject the other's opinions.

When he kissed her, she became aware that he acknowledged their unspoken connection, and probably had done so since the time he'd taken that juice box and opened it for her. It was why he seemed not afraid to leave her in Soul Society, why though he always berates her for disturbing his peace by leaving or returning, he never tells her to stay on one side, and why (after a little prodding) he never refuses to help her with whatever she's doing, even if he thinks of it as "kind of stupid".

He's gone far out of his way to tell her, now that you mention it.

She'll never forget the sudden calmness that seeped through her entire being. She remembers how she looked at him and it occurred to her that he wouldn't do this for anyone else. And that exact feeling has her convinced that this cannot by any means be love. She knows for sure he'll be waiting for her, she knows for sure he'll be coming for her, she knows for sure there'll never be another occupant in his closet – with all the implications you could possibly see in that – and she's learned the hard way and more than once that with love, there's always something you're _not_ sure of. That's why. And you're not going to change her mind about it, since you quite obviously can't mess with a hundred years worth of experience.

However, Rukia has a distinct sense of what's fair. So, when she noticed that Ichigo felt somehow… exposed by the whole incident, she decided on an uncompromising way to tell him that she might have understood what he was hinting at. To get even, if you want to look at it that way.

That's how she's ended up on his bed at exactly four-fifty this morning, with a small tray of breakfast she's spent hours to prepare (actually, she's spent a whole lot of her time on earth secretly watching Yuzu making breakfast to get it right, and it still looks, well, not right). And even if he is a light sleeper, Ichigo sure takes his time waking up.

When she resorts to poking him quite unceremoniously, he lets out a sigh and opens his left eye.

"Hollow?"

She nods. He opens his right eye. "How come you never just visit?"

"Because you never invite me, idiot."

He grunts. After a few minutes he seems to realise that she's sitting on his bed. He looks at her a bit irritated, then tries to get up. His hand brushes across the tray, and he grunts again, in surprise, or so she thinks.

"What's that?"

"What does it look like?"

"You don't really want me to answer that, do you?" He eyes the food suspiciously.

"It's breakfast, you jerk."

"Are you sure? It seems alive to me."

"You have five minutes to find out."

She settles on a look that always promises the worst-case scenario, and maybe he's just tired, because he blinks in defeat and shoves something that has a remote resemblance to something possibly edible into his mouth. Rukia watches with mild interest as his expression changes to one of confirmed suspicions, while the healthy rosy colour of his face turns to green, then to red. She wonders if it's anything to do with the ingredients and is in the middle of blaming his weak stomach when something happens that neither of them expected. He gulps whatever that stuff is down and gruffly remarks "I knew it", and she thinks that this time, he'll get away with it, and then he smiles.

Have you ever seen someone smile against their own free will? Not a grumpy child that's tickled or a pissed off girlfriend you've bought a really expensive gift. More like a boy who hates to smile so much he actually tried to sell the thing in exchange for a permanent scowl, only that nobody wanted it because it made an irritating rusty noise from neglect.

Imagine this really tough smile that _fights _its way to the surface and refuses to back down until he has to bite his lip to keep it from bursting out of his face and right into hers. Which makes her smile anyway. And maybe it brings the slightest flush to her cheeks. Sure feels like it.

As an afterthought, she'd appreciate it if he learned that there are moments when he should – instead of talking, listening, waiting or coming for her – just try to kiss her again, maybe with more time at his hands. Of course, she won't tell him or something… after all, he's not as experienced and might easily confuse what they have with love. And it's something _entirely different_.


End file.
